Desiderata
by DaffodilSunday
Summary: Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend - Albert Camus. Exploring the relationship between Hawkeye, Iron Man and Black Widow. Other Avengers will feature.


Jarvis activated the overhead lights, allowing them to flicker before they settled on Tony's movement, dimming once he'd passed and lighting the next set further along the corridor in sync with his footsteps. Tony would have preferred to keep the main lights on around the clock as darkness made the tower somewhat eerie during his nightly replenishment strolls. His eyesight struggled to comprehend the shift from the bright spectrum of his lab to the dull emptiness of the corridors surrounding it but, Pepper had decided that Stark Industries needed to be the environmental life lesson for other major technological businesses and at her whim, he'd built in the automatic dimmers to satisfy her. Sometimes he found small childlike enjoyment in trying to beat the lights but, Jarvis was always quicker. The only people who seemed to be able to outwit Jarvis and keep the corridors in darkness were the two master assassins but, their job was to go undetected and the skill set reflected that.

Tony tugged open the nearest cupboard as he reached the kitchen, searching the next three before he found something edible and another two after that before he found something to suit his craving. He knew he'd have to replace the chocolate he'd removed from Banner's cupboard or face his wrath when he surfaced in the morning. Even without the 'Other Guy' Banner was a considerably scary person when antagonised, the quiet demeanour disappeared very quickly along with his usual tolerance for Tony's antics. Nevertheless, Tony felt no guilt as he bit into the solid slab of cocoa allowing the sweet pleasure to fill his stomach. The kitchen fell back into darkness with his stagnant posture and before he had a chance to stimulate movement to reactivate the overhead lights, they flickered on at the other end of the corridor and his attention was momentarily distracted. Agent Clint Barton stepped over the threshold, returning from his latest mission carrying his trademark bow and a black duffel bag slung over his broad shoulders.

Tony watched as Clint made his way to his bedroom quarters oblivious to his presence, obviously with the intent of collapsing and resting up until morning. From the little Tony could see, Clint was sporting no serious injuries although the bright light did seem to illuminate several cuts down his right bicep, none of which seemed to be hindering him, none of which were still bleeding. He had no inclination to where Barton's assignment had taken him after Fury had implemented improved security measures for all Shield files, following his helicraft hack - which Jarvis was still trying to decipher. The AI system was perfectly capable of cracking the code but, Stark had had other priorities in his downtime, mainly working out a way to get access to his high calorie treats which Pepper had forbidden him from. She'd hidden them somewhere in Stark Towers and neither she nor Jarvis would inform him where. It was times like this he regretted building a computer system with a moral compass, and the disposition to like someone better than him.

He was about to seek the solace of his own bed, when a door clicked open further along the linear hallway. At first he assumed it was Barton again, who was renowned almost to the same degree as Tony for his inability to switch off and sleep – a shared characteristic which led to many late night bonding sessions between the two pulling pranks on their sleeping unsuspecting victims. But, instead Agent Romanoff's figure appeared in the shadows. She let her own bedroom door close before she crossed the short hallway, her delicate footsteps keeping the corridor in darkness. Once she arrived at Barton's door, she tugged down the handle – not bothering to knock and disappeared inside, eager to see her partner who'd been gone for three weeks.

Clint acknowledged her a few seconds after she stepped foot into the room, even though the room remained in darkness and his back was to her. He'd tossed the large duffel bag to the foot of his bed and hung the bow back in its position on the adjacent wall but, got little further than that.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Natasha didn't respond, instead she crossed the carpeted floor with her bare feet until she stood directly behind him absorbing his familiar scent. Her forehead rested against his back and her hands caressed his shoulders. For a moment Clint kept still despite the fatigue in his muscles giving her the time she desired whilst selfishly enjoying her warmth.

"How was it?" She breathed.

"Routine," Clint assured her turning his body. That one word summarised all missions for the duo solo or otherwise, where they'd emerged with minimal injuries and the assignment had been deemed a success. It was a simple word but for the two assassins it brought reassurance where no other word could.

Clint reached out to tuck a wandering tendril of hair behind Natasha's ear, a soft smile playing on his face. It was good to be home. She could see the tiredness overwhelming his blue orbs and his need to recuperate, whilst he appeared physically fine, mentally these missions could take their toll. She shifted letting her hand run down his bicep and lightly trail along his arm as she rounded him, slipping under the duvet and settling. Clint was undeterred, stripping down to his boxers to slide in on the other side.

The team had yet to work out the actual relationship between the two Shield agents. It was obvious that it ran deeper than friendship by the mutual trust and history they shared but, it was far from a conventional relationship. Tony Stark had expected Natasha to be the more outgoing of the duo from his previous knowledge of her but; she remained ambiguous in every sense of the word, preferring only to interact with the team during assignments. In their downtime, she only truly engaged with Clint and withdrew from the rest despite the team's best attempts to include her in their activities. The others had questioned this leading Clint to inform them that it was nothing personal but, as time progressed it became harder to accept.

Clint on the other hand had emerged from the Manhattan battle with an impressive personality and a wicked sense of humour that was evenly matched by Tony. The billionaire had assumed this was one of the reasons that he'd become fast friends with the archer despite the assassin's destruction whilst until the control of Loki during what Tony liked to fondly refer to as his 'Jerry Springer' episode. Due to Barton's nocturnal preference he often joined Stark in the lab during the early hours of the morning whilst the rest of the tower was in slumber. It would start with genuine interest in the contraption Tony was designing; a couple of hours bonding over the testing before it descended into anarchy and the contraption became abandoned in favour of other pursuits – mainly pranking the other Avengers. The Hulk had been released on several occasions.

Tony reached across the table to grab the screwdriver rested beside Clint who was hunched over finishing his mission report from his previous assignment. He'd learnt never to ask Clint to hand him anything because Barton always had the habit of tossing the chosen item in his direction, without even bothering to look up with the expectation that Tony would catch it. Only nine times out of ten these implements were sharp, and Tony's hand to eye co-ordination, despite his superhero status, was embarrassingly poor. It was no wonder he'd always been picked last in gym class.

"What's this even supposed to be?" Clint queried looking up from his paperwork for the first time in ten minutes to survey the work Tony was doing. Tony slapped his hand away as he reached out to touch the metallic surface.

"It's a new prototype," Tony mumbled fiddling with the controls. "Don't touch."

He didn't need to look up to know there was a smirk on Clint's face.

"For what?"

Tony inwardly rolled his eyes having explained the contraption a couple of hours previous on their way down to the lab. They'd joined the other Avengers for dinner earlier in the evening; afterwards Tony had convinced Clint to complete his mission report in the lab - having disliked the idea of solitude ever since the Avengers initative. Clint had accepted, although he had been pre-booked by the Black Widow to train for the remainder of the evening. But apparently, Natasha was now no longer talking to him, and Tony was surprised at how relaxed Clint had been with the whole situation.

"What's eating Romanoff?" Stark had questioned once he was certain he were out of earshot - He didn't have a death wish.

"She's just pissed," Barton shrugged as if having a master assassin express their annoyance was a regular occurrence in his life. Although, if Tony thought about the line of work Clint participated in – it probably was. Still, he had yet to meet anyone bar Barton who would dare turn their back on his partner without the fear of a large target painted on their back. Hell, even Director Fury seemed to make a point of avoiding it – perhaps it was because she was unpredictable? Hormones? No, Tony knew the answer was simpler – the only loyalty she had was to Clint. He'd saved her life during their first encounter, and whilst she had returned the favour countless times – it seemed the debt and the history was always evident. And it was that loyalty that had fortified Natasha Romanoff to the Avengers, simply because her partner was present.

"Pissed?" Tony frowned. "You don't seem concerned."

Personally Tony felt this was a fatal error – ever since Agent Romanoff had informed him she could castrate him with a paper clip in less than 30 seconds. An unwelcomed repercussion on Tony's part due to him delving into her cupboards during his usual replenishment stroll and removing the only item present. He'd enjoyed that dark chocolate at the time but, now wished he could advance technology to the point where he could actually create a time machine and revert his original decision. If Natasha Romanoff hadn't liked him beforehand, stealing from her probably hadn't been the best idea in hindsight.

"She'll get over it," Clint stated tugging over a stool to sit at Tony's workspace. He dropped his paperwork on the surface and settled, leaving enough space for Tony to play with his toys.

"How come you can sass Romanoff but, I can't?" Tony whined, disgruntled that one of his natural talents was being stifled.

"Because I can defend myself," Clint responded offhand with no hint of sarcasm.

Tony raised his eyebrows.

"I can defend myself," He grumbled like a spoilt child.

Clint laughed from the other side of the table.

"Is that why you've removed all the paperclips from the building?" He noted. Tony frowned – it was clear Natasha had some sense of humour if she found relaying her latest torture techniques to Clint amusing. He didn't bother to dignify Clint with a response, opting instead to change the subject altogether.

"So, where did your last vacation take you?" He questioned.

"You not hacked Fury's new system yet?" Clint queried raising his eyebrows, finding this largely out of character for the self-obsessed billionaire.

"I've had other priorities," Tony retorted discarding the contraption he was working on, as he still was no further forward in solving the problem that had been eluding him for the past two weeks. He'd just managed to make the machine… Shiny.

"Maybe if you focused on the system, you'd work out where Pepper hid your chocolate," The archer mused.

"You've hacked it?" Tony frowned, realising he was only beginning to understand the depths of Hawkeye's talents.

"It's not hard," Clint shrugged. "Surprisingly easy for a secret government organisation; Password's Fury's birthday."


End file.
